


The First Time (In a Long Time)

by juniperberries



Category: Avengers, MCU
Genre: Civil War, F/M, Wakanda, buckynat - Freeform, postcw, window is my affectionate name for winterwidow, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberries/pseuds/juniperberries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has seen her before. Heard her before. Experienced her before. </p>
<p>But not like this. </p>
<p>James has not officially met Natasha yet - or should it be, rekindled with. What with all the brainwashing and all that. After all, how can ex-lovers really see eye to eye?</p>
<p>Post civil-war, post-cyro Bucky meets Natasha, who is checking in on the team. Steve is his best friend. Steve is her best friend. Steve knows. Very short fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time (In a Long Time)

**Author's Note:**

> No. 1 - "Love is patient."

The smooth concrete flooring of his room echoed the soft footsteps of two people he knew well. One, long, well balanced stride but with a pep at every step, belonging to the most posture perfect military poster boy of the century. Or centuries.   
The other, sleek cat like steps, bearing a lithe figure... Though his deduction is a little bit marred, as the footsteps gave an impression that they refuse to be heavy despite feeling today a bit dragged. His memory can only suggest.

  
The clear skies of Wakanda poured through the room's glass wall, streaming through the light curtains that floated sheerly against it. He ran his hand through his hair, and tugged his blanket up with the other. Six bloody AM. How does he have "guests" that early?

The footsteps stopped before his bedroom door.

"I just want to know he's alright Steve. You've told me. I don't need proof."

"Relax, Nat. He's asleep. I just want you to see him, okay?"

A light knock. Bucky never locks his door. Steve knew he wakes easily. Maybe that's all part of his plan. The two guests enter, Steve's long stride stopping after three, keeping close near the door, while the other, hesitant, slow, and treading...

"He sleeps so peacefully," Natasha's voice said haltingly, speaking to herself more than to Steve.

_Wrong. But not extremely wrong._

"He's getting better at it," Steve's voice lowly whispered.

"Better not disturb him then," the sweet, husky voice replied. He knew it from anywhere.

As her footsteps approached the door, he heard Steve open it again and waited for her to step outside. But both footsteps stopped, and he heard her foot take a step in his direction again.

Despite him not recognising her as the winter soldier. Despite him being opposite her team during the civil war. Despite being the cause of her team's divide. Despite hiding his emotion as she saved him and Steve.

Despite all that, Natasha still turned to him.

"Good night, Bucky," she said, sweet, longing, and bitter, like raw honey dripping, like autumn chasing after winter, like a lost lover he thought he'd never hear the voice again. She set her foot back out the door, hesitant. And then another.

She was stopped in her tracks when she heard a reply that didn't come from the blonde beside her.

"You used to call me James, Natashenka."

Steve saw her face shot up, unable to turn to the origin of the voice but instead fixating steadfastly on the opposite direction. He saw the face contort - eyebrows knot and lips bit, lids blinking furiously. She was trying her best to control.

But it's been too long and she broke.

"James," she said, turning to face Bucky as he got out of his bed, looking at her. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. And another. Steve stepped out of the room and leaned on the door. He couldn't bear see her cry.

"I'm sorry, it's been too long. I'm sorry I didn't... I didn't recognise you. I'm sorry I didn't let you find me, or contact me, or know where I was. I wasn't... Living my life," Bucky said, his voice heavy with regret and words unspoken, broken as glass thrown on a storming sea.

"James," she said again, a whisper of a rose, his name a prayer on her tongue, _please do not let this moment be another dream_ , she cried out to all the gods she knew, and like a chant to wake herself she called again, "James," and it took him all his strength to not run towards her and take her in his arms, never to let go, never to let her whisper his name without knowing if it is indeed the James she knew looking back at her emerald green eyes.

So he called out to her, "Natashka," like the elixir of life in his mouth, her name the sweetest memory of the only times he remembered being himself during his darker days. He yearned to see her again. And many times before now he did.

Yet this morning, bathed in cool Wakandan light, was the first time he's seen her as _his Natashka_ in a very long time.

And he grew weak.

He almost ran to meet her, but so secure was his resolve to have her in his arms as soon as he can he almost forgot to see if she would allow him. As he stood one foot away from her, he reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness that fell from her eye. His fingers were encased in her hair and she has never been more beautiful to him his entire life - that is until, she leapt to his arms, crashed her face to his neck, burying one hand in his hair and the other on his cheek.

Life flew in his veins.

He wanted to kiss her, kiss her hair, kiss her cheeks, kiss her mouth, kiss her in every place he missed since they got separated. She turned to face him and the space between their faces was so small he could have fulfilled his wishes then and there. Still, Natasha waited. She placed him a generous kiss on the forehead, smiled at him, the buried her face on his chest.

He then realised Steve was nowhere to be found.

Three hours later he heard the familiar poised, military poster boy steps. Three knocks on his door, he said come in.

And Steve found Natasha profoundly asleep in Bucky's chest, his own face buried in her red hair.

"Well, whenever you guys are ready, Sam made breakfast. Though by the time you're out of bed, I'm assuming you'd have to heat it up."

"Alright," James replied, all his hunger and needs satisfied at the sight of Natasha next to him. Steve turned, and as he was about to close the door behind him, Bucky called out, "Thank you, Steve. Thank you."


End file.
